Chapter 32 CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 32
YAEL
The debate room was buzzing. Pages flipping, chairs scraping, people talking over one another. I could practically feel the caffeine and nerves in the air.
“Alright, team,” Knox said, clapping once, “pair up. We’re running the mock round again. Jordan, you and Liam will go against me and Yael.”
Jordan groaned dramatically. “Why do I always end up on the losing team?”
I smirked. “Confidence looks good on you, but delusion doesn’t.”
The room erupted with laughter. Even Knox cracked a grin. I shouldn’t have enjoyed that look on his face as much as I did, but I did. That slight, approving tilt of his mouth.
We started the debate. I could feel the adrenaline crawling under my skin — the rhythm of arguing, rebutting, thinking three steps ahead. My words came sharp and fast, and Knox kept nodding slightly, that quiet encouragement he always gave without saying a word.
When Jordan stood up for her last argument, she was good. Too good. Her tone was calm but cutting, her logic seamless. And when the timer beeped, I knew I’d lost it — by just a breath.
“Winner: Jordan,” Knox announced.
The room exploded into cheers and groans. Maya whooped. Liam clapped. Jordan threw her hands up like she’d just won an Oscar.
I couldn’t even be mad. I went straight to her. “You killed it,” I said, laughing as I hugged her.
“You almost had me,” she whispered in my ear. “Almost.”
I grinned against her shoulder. “Next round, I’m burning you alive.”
“Promises, promises.”
When everyone started packing up, Knox called out, “Yael, stay back for a bit. We’ll run through your closing again.”
Jordan winked at me as she left. “Stay safe, baby.”
Maya smirked and mouthed, use protection, before closing the door behind her.
I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly stayed that way.
Knox stood by the whiteboard, pen in hand, but I could tell from the way he was leaning against the table that this wasn’t just about practice. His sleeves were rolled up, his shirt half untucked — he looked like sin dressed in debate coach discipline.
“So,” he said. “Want to tell me where you think you lost?”
I dropped my bag and crossed my arms. “I knew it when I asked Jordan about her final premise. My tone gave away that I was uncertain.”
“Exactly.” He nodded. “You second-guessed yourself. You had her cornered, but you blinked.”
I sighed. “It’s just—she’s my friend. I hate going too hard on her.”
He smirked faintly. “You need to learn to separate sentiment from logic.”
“Oh, so I should just turn into a robot?”
“If that’s what it takes to win,” he said simply.
I stepped closer. “You sound like someone who doesn’t lose often.”
“I don’t,” he said, his voice dropping.
The air shifted then — that invisible charge that always followed us. I swallowed. He was too close now, his scent wrapping around me, his gaze flicking briefly to my mouth before he looked away.
“Let’s practice again,” I said quickly, my voice thinner than I wanted it to be.
He nodded, stepping back. “Alright. Start from your opening line.”
I started. He interrupted. Corrected me. Moved closer. Our rhythm was fast and sharp, but every time he leaned over my shoulder to read something from my notes, I forgot what words meant.
At some point, I stopped paying attention to the board and started paying attention to him — the way his voice softened when he said my name, the way his jaw flexed when he was thinking.
“You’re distracted,” he said.
“No, I’m not.”
He tilted his head. “Then why are you staring at me instead of your notes?”
“Because you’re standing in my light.”
He chuckled. “That’s your excuse?”
“That’s the truth.”
We just stood there, facing each other, silence thick as smoke. I didn’t move. Neither did he.
Then it happened.
One second, he was looking at me. The next, he was right in front of me. His hands slid around my waist, and before I could breathe, he lifted me onto the table. My breath hitched.
“Knox—”
“Tell me to stop.”
I didn’t. Couldn’t.
He stepped in between my legs, close enough that my knees brushed his hips. His eyes were dark, all restraint and fire.
“Say it,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Say stop.”
“Stop,” I whispered. But it sounded like the most obvious lie I’d ever told.
He exhaled, low and dangerous. “You’re making it hard to be the responsible one here.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to be responsible.”
That broke him.
His mouth was on mine before I could blink. Hard. Hungry. The kind of kiss that stole my balance and burned my logic alive. My fingers curled into his hair. He groaned against my lips, deep and rough, like he’d been holding this in for weeks.
When he finally pulled away, his forehead pressed to mine. “Yael.”
“Hmm?”
“Go to your room,” he said quietly.
I blinked. “What?”
He stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “If you stay here, I’ll do something I shouldn’t.”
My pulse was still erratic. “And if I want you to?”
His eyes snapped up to mine, sharp. “Don’t test me.”
I hopped off the table slowly, feeling the warmth still clinging to my lips. “We could…practice in my room,” I said softly.
He laughed once — short, dark. “That’s not what you mean and you know it.”
“Maybe I just want more privacy.”
He stared at me for a long time. Then, finally: “Fine. Let’s go.”
My room was quiet except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan. I dropped my bag on the chair, trying to pretend my heart wasn’t about to explode.
Knox closed the door behind him, and for a second, neither of us spoke. He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, studying me.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
I nodded. “It’s just practice, right?”
He smiled — that slow, dangerous kind of smile that promised anything but practice. “Right.”
We sat on the bed with our notes spread between us. But the words blurred together. Every time our fingers brushed, my thoughts tangled. Every time he leaned close to explain a point, I forgot to breathe.
He noticed. Of course he did. “You’re not listening.”
“I am,” I lied.
“Then repeat what I just said.”
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
He smirked. “Exactly what I thought.”
“You’re distracting,” I said.
“Funny, I was about to say the same thing.”
We stared at each other, heat crawling through the silence.
“Knox—”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t think when you look at me like that.”
He leaned in, his breath brushing my ear. “Good.”
I closed my eyes. “You’re playing with fire.”
“I know.”
His hand brushed my cheek. “And I think you like it.”
Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t care.
All I knew was
that when his lips ghosted over mine again, my entire world went quiet — no debate, no rules, no logic. Just heat.
And the sound of my name leaving his mouth like a sin.